~Faye
I stare the amount of work that spread across my desk, begging to be sifted through. My head falls straight into the paper, feeling the impact of the wood underneath on my forehead. My eyes burn bright crimson from staring under harsh light at scrawly handwriting. I’ve been here for what feels like hours, and I have a feeling it’s not going to get done in the next few hours.
“You should really take a break.”
I jump at the sound of a voice. I haven’t heard the sound of another person in hours. Actually, these past three weeks have been completely devoid of contact with anyone. So hearing a voice, especially familiar one feels so good.
Cal stands at the doorframe. He’s not the same man I sent on a job to the Discipline Pack three weeks ago to find my parents killer.
Something has happened to him while he has been away. His shoulders are tenser, shadows shaded under his eyes. He even has a draw off look in his eye, which is in complete contrast to his usual concentration and control.
“Cal…” I breathe, pushing up from my desk, “you’re back.”
I’m not sure what presses me to do it, but I get up, and rush over to hug him. Maybe it’s this lack of contact that I’ve had these past few weeks. He embraces me back, arms wrapping around me, pressing me into his chest. It’s the most comfort I’ve felt in weeks. I thought I needed space after mother passed, but now, I realise I never want to be out of someone’s presence.
I feel him glance over my shoulder as he holds me. “Is that what this is?”
“How did it go?” I ask, ignoring his question. It’s much easier to not explain what is going on on my desk. Nothing productive, that’s what.
“Not that great,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “We couldn’t get access to Alpha Kael.”
I cringe slightly. The only reason I sent him away was to go to the Discipline Pack to track down the killer who we assume is a Silent. Kael would have sent orders for that Silent to do its job, and I want to know why. He mentioned he wanted my mother dead. At the time, I thought either he was lying, or he wouldn’t succeed. I feel foolish for thinking that.
“And you didn’t get anything else?” I ask, hoping that maybe he would catch on to some sort of trail. Then again, I told him not to come home unless he found anything. It must have gone cold if he has come back looking this defeated.
“Nothing that leads us to the preparator,” he digresses. I’m not sure why, but the way he says it, with a slight shrug of his shoulders had anger surging right through me.
“Aren’t you meant to be a Huntsman?”
“Faye, you don’t understand,” he says carefully. “It’s not easy to track Silent’s. The amount of training they go through to be the assassins they are is immense. It’s more training than I have to find them.”
I back away from him a few steps, which he immediately notices. He frowns slightly, a storm simmering in his eyes. He has a different type of anger compared to anyone else I know. It’s held back. It’s in a way where it might explode in any second.
“Were you not once a Silent?” I question, leaning back against my desk, careful not to rumple the paper on top of it.
“Not every Silent is the same,” he replies.
When I think about a Silent, I think about T. I’m not sure why, because he isn’t one. I think it’s the constant threat of him, of not being able to read him at all. Even though Silent’s aren’t meant to speak, he does so in such a specific way. It’s all smooth allure and careful teasing. It makes me wonder what his end game is. Has he achieved it yet?
“It’s been three weeks Cal,” I remind him pointedly. “My mother is gone.”
“It takes time. A lot of it. I promise I will find whoever did this,” he tells me, taking a few steps forward. I sigh, knowing he is right. Silent’s aren’t normal killers, like he said. He is clearly trying his best, and just needs more time. Justice will be served eventually.
Sighing again, I wrap my arms around him one more time. For my benefit, not for his. He seems to understand that, reciprocating the act.
“Things have been terrible while you were gone,” I whisper against his chest.
“I know,” he replies gently. “Things will get better now.”
“I’m not sure about that,” I say. I can’t imagine how anything in this world could make my situation any better. Perhaps a few things would, but none that I can obtain right now. “I have a horrible headache right now.”
I can hardly even think straight with it. These days, a headache has become a normal part of my daily routine. I wake up, and it’s there, to the point where I’m constantly cringing from pain, and bright light makes me nauseas. It doesn’t go away until I close my eyes at night. But then, I’m aware of something else worse at night. Day is a reprieve.
“Have you been controlled recently?” he asks.
“No quite.”
“You know, this is a much bigger deal than finding your mother’s killer,” he tells me. I pull away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. Does he seriously think that? I always thought Cal to be very sane, but I guess maybe he’s not.
I narrow my eyes on him pointedly. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true, and you know it. Who knows what this freak has planned next for you,” he mutters.
There’s no answer to this problem going on in my head yet. I’ve dealt with it for so long, it seem normal now having to deal with this. Whoever is in my head hasn’t sent me walking nearly cliff edges since, but things still haven’t been great. They are still there, looming over my conscious every day, and every night.
“No. I will sort it out. For now, you need to find the killer. I’ll be able to think clearly when they are caught, and dealt with,” I tell him honestly, circling my desk back around to my chair. He watches me sink into it, keeping his gaze trained on me. The movement hits me straight in my head.
“Look at you, you’re cringing,” he comments softly, clearly concerned. I wish he wouldn’t be though. I can handle this just fine.
“Headaches hurt, go figure,” I dismiss, waving my hand around to emphasis. “The hint is in the name.”
“I can tell you’re deflecting this. Why the headache?”
I motion down to all the paper scattered across the desk in front of me, letting it speak for itself. “I’m trying to get all this work done.”
He moves around the desk, grabbing a piece of paper while he does so. I watch him scan it, hoping it is nothing too important or confidential. I still don’t completely trust Cal with everything. It’s easier to deny him of my trust than give myself to him. I’ve been hurt so much in this past month, and I doubt I can deal with anything else. He’s doing his job, and that’s that.
“What is it?” he questions, frowning at the document. Clearly, it’s something with small font that I’ve stared at for hours without being able to come to any conclusion about.
“Leads in completely mismatched order. Stuff, I guess,” I mutter, not really wanting to deal with that right now.
I’ve been here since early this morning, with a few people trying to bring me food I would brush off. Who knows what time it is right now. Late, that’s for sure.
Cal taps his fingers against the desk surface. “You’re not even thinking straight.”
“I’ll be great if you went back out and found the killer,” I say flatly. “Unless of course, you want to stay here to continue to criticise me.”
He doesn’t move. “I see.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, resting my head against the desk. How does Cal even have the patience to deal with me right now. “I’m sorry I’m like this. I’ve been having vivid dreams recently. While you’re gone, at least.”
“Why, what like?” he questions.
I look back up, seeing the concerned look painted across his face. Why did I mention it?
“I can control them, to an extent. It’s as if I’m standing in my own mind, where something sends different situations at me. It’s exhausting. I wake up feeling like I didn’t sleep at all, and these headaches suddenly appear so often now,” I complain, sighing deeply. I haven’t admitted this to anyone for a while, and I must admit, it’s nice to get it off my chest.
“I could tell the moment I laid my eyes on you that you weren’t well,” Cal comments, sweeping his hand back through his already mussed hair.
I decide I’ve been so honest so far, there’s no point in stopping now. “I’m just so tired.”
“Do you know why this is happening? Have you been doing anything recently that’s been odd. Are you seeing T again?” Cal question, much to my disgust.
I haven’t seen T sin person since I walked out of his house three weeks ago. And, when I dreamt about him. It’s been the only nice dream I’ve had this month, when I was convinced he was my mate, I woke up with a smile on his face. After that, I doubt I’ll be able to look him in the eye without thinking about it.
Luckily, he’s probably gone by now.
“No Cal, he’s gone and out of my life,” I confirm. I can hardly believe that he would blame T for my bad dreams and slight depression. “My mother did die, you know.”
“Of course. Hey, why don’t you go rest for a while?” He asks.
I wonder what part of me displays my fatigue the most. It’s either the shadows under my eyes, the drooping lids or the slouch of my shoulders. Off the top of my head, I couldn’t mention when the last time I actually got a good night’s sleep without waking up completely terrified.
“I don’t want to dream again, Cal,” I tell him, resting my chin in my hands.
“How about I come with you?”
Looking up at him in surprise, I scan his face to see if he is being serious. He holds his hand out at me, eyebrow raised, expecting me to take it without hesitation. Not wanting to be in his room any longer, while also wanting company, I take his hand. I let him lead me to my room, trailing behind me with slight nerves surfacing in my stomach. Willing them away, I refuse to consider why they are there in the first place.
“Thank you, for doing this,” I murmur, as I sit on the edge of my bed, kicking my shoes off. I just want to collapse and have an uneventful sleep.
“Don’t mention it,” Cal dismisses, doing the same with his shoes. So he is being serious about joining me in bed. I don’t mind at all, as if his presence will chase away the nightmares. “I want you to get some rest.”
I lay down, instantly feeling my body relax. Cal joins me, lying right beside me. He’s polite, not touching me at all, just watching me.
“You’re kinder than everyone thinks,” I breathe.
“Did you doubt it?”
“Yes,” I admit, turning on my side to face him. I’m hoping he isn’t about to get mad at what I want to say to him. I prefer people to know what I’m thinking if it troubles me. Helps me to gets the answers I want. “A part of me still doesn’t trust you.”
He sighs deeply, but doesn’t look effected by it. “I understand. Just know that I’m a Huntsman, and my past is muddled. It’s a problem. I just want to do right now.”
“You are doing right. Thank you for helping me.”
He smiles. Seeing someone who is almost perpetually serious and concentrated smile is a toe curling sight. I wonder what else makes him smile. I know little about him other than what he drip feeds me, so I’m left to experiment. He reaches out, brushing a piece of hair off my face. Now I’m smiling, feeling the oddly soft pads of his fingers brush against me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “I love these green eyes.”
“Are you always this sweet with everyone?” I ask, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t stop, much to my contentment. I inch closer unintentionally, my body drawn in to him.
“Only you,” he breathes.
I’m not sure who made the first move, but I’m vaguely sure it was me. Out lips meet, and I almost melt at the feeling. It’s comfortable, and warm, and washes away all the worry that has shrouded over my mind these past few weeks. He places his hands on my face, pulling me in closer to him, while my fingers wind into his hair.
The taste of him is addicting. Everything about him is addicting. I never want it to stop.
However, Cal seems to have other ideas.
“I have an idea,” he says suddenly, pulling away from the kiss. I almost groan in protest, but stop myself as he props up on his knees, looking down on me. There’s a whisper of a smile on his face, which makes me narrow my eyes slightly.
I press my head back into my pillow. “This is a wonderful time for that.”
“What if I get into your dream with you?”
I frown. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” he says, seemingly almost unnervingly excited about the prospect of this. Then again, he hasn’t had to experience the darkness that happens every single night. “A Gaze Reader can do it, right?”
“Well yeah, I’m sure they could,” I tell him anxiously. “Would you really do that though?”
“Of course, without a doubt in my mind.”
I stop and think about that for a moment. What if he could actually do it? He would be joining me into pure hell, which is something I don’t want to make him go through. Yet at the same time, thinking of having company, especially of a Huntsman who has been in tough situations like that is extremely tempting.
“It might be dangerous though,” I admit, hoping it won’t convince him out of it, but also being worried for his safety.
He shrugs. “It’s worth it. If we can find out who is in your head controlling you.”
“Honestly, sometimes I think that there is more than one person in my mind,” I admit, remembering each detail of my nightmares. “It’s almost as if they are wrestling in my head and it creates these turbulent nightmares.”
“Tonight, you rest,” he breathes, “Tomorrow, we will see a Gaze Reader, and figure this all out. I promise.”
***
“Is this seriously going to work?”
The Gaze Reader leans over my bed, eyes narrowed. She’s not my normal Gaze Reader. She has attitude, and clearly would rather be anywhere else. My other Gaze Reader can’t be trusted after she poisoned T. Even if I would have done it too if I was doing it. Other Gaze Reader’s don’t know the kind of magic to do this intricate spell.
“If you take this,” she grumbles, pressing a vial into my awaiting palm. She turns to Cal, who lies beside me, doing the same. “And you too.”
“Yes ma’am,” Cal replies.
We both drink the liquid at the same time. It tastes dirty, and the effects are almost instant. My head begins to spin, and I feel instantly tired. The moment my head touches my pillow again, I feel obliged to close my eyes and fall into an impossibly deep slumber.
“Lie back, and sleep.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m doing all the work here,” she mutters. “Just lie back and sleep. I will connect your minds once Faye is in the dream.”
I scoff. “Correction. Nightmare.”
“Lie down,” she snaps, directing that at Cal, who seems to be having a hard time at reigning his nerves in. I don’t blame him. This will be the first time he will experience anything like this, and hopefully for him, the last.
No other words are spoken, but I grasp his hand, squeezing it for reassurance. He responds with the same action. As soon as my eyes close, I feel myself slip away.
And suddenly, I wake again.
I’ve seen this place a lot. It’s common in my dream world. A rolling meadow that goes straight toward the horizon in every direction. The horizon is built on darkness, which seems to be slowly creeping in with each passing moment.
“Cal, are you here?” I call out, my voice echoing. What I hate about these nightmares is how real they feel. I can feel the breeze against my bare arms, and the shadows from the clouds chilling my entire body.
“What is this place?” Cal asks from behind me. I breathe in a sigh of relief. It worked.
“My mind,” I answer, turning to face him. “My really demented mind.”
Cal shakes his head at me. “No it’s not your fault. This is the creation of whatever is in your head.”
“Everything is so lost…empty, almost,” he continues.
“I’ve always had a fear of open spaces. Being lost and not being able to find my way back. I love people so much, being alone scares me sometimes,” I admit, wrapping my arms around myself. Cal reaches out, grabbing my hand, holding it like he did when we were falling asleep.
“So whoever is doing this is trying to scare you,” Cal says. “Anyone out there that knows this much about you, and only wants bad for you.”
I think about that for a few moment. “I don’t know, I’m an Alpha. It’s not as if everyone likes my decisions. As for knowing my fears...I have no idea.”
“Let’s explore. Who knows what might be here,” Cal says.
I turn in the spot, looking around. “You’re right. But which direction?”
“What feels right?”
Taking my time, I look in every direction, trying to make sense of everything. It’s all the same. Dull green grass straight toward a pit of darkness. Forward, though, seems to make the most sense. At least it does in my delusional mind.
“This way.”
I walk in front of him, until I don’t hear him taking steps any more in the dry grass. I pause, listening.
“Cal?”
“Faye.”
I turn around, seeing he has stopped in the grass. He is examining something in his hand. A gun. Instantly, my blood runs ice cold, and I take a shuddering step back.
“Where the hell did you get that from?” I question.
“It just appeared in my hand,” he replies. He doesn’t sound as nervous or surprised about this as I thought he might. At this point, if it had happened to me, I would have dropped it right into the grass without hesitation.
I swallow uncomfortably. “How?”
“I just willed it to.”
“What does the mean?” I ask softly, my heart almost completely brought to a stop.
“It means that I want to kill you.”
There’s no way I can avoid this. But foolishly enough, I begin running. I sprint in the opposite direction, hearing him cock the gun regardless. I stumble over my feet, trying to get distance between us, hoping he would miss. But in my mind, I know he won’t.
He’s a Huntsman, and now he’s hunting me.